


So much love shines through

by Daughter_of_the_TARDIS



Category: Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton)
Genre: F/M, Family, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-23 02:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_TARDIS/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_TARDIS
Summary: Different instances of Abovelanders meeting the citizens of Underland... All of them friends and family of a certain yellow haired Champion and her Hatter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All Outlandish words and phrases are borrowed from Manniness and their OPK series.
> 
> The first chapter of this story is a rewrite of my one-shot "Fell Down the Rabbit Hole"

They had just appeared out of the blue, the message had said, and Margaret nearly broke into a run on her way up the steps in her haste to see if what the message said was true. Her husband - and she nearly rolled her eyes just from thinking the word, for he certainly never acted as a husband should - and daughter followed along behind her, much less anxious at the prospect of seeing Her again. It had been eight years since she had disappeared, and now Mother had said that the most absurd thing has happened. They had taken the carriage over from the Manchester estate as soon as they could

Once she entered the estate, she couldn’t help but think that Mother was right. Because there stood Alice - strange, dreamy Alice, who swore that she would never get married nor have children of her own - wrapped in a man’s arms, with a small red-haired child sitting on the lap of her shocked grandmother.

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It had taken awhile for everyone to stop shouting, the Hatter mused. At first he had been worried for his Alice, but she had been quick to reassure him that everything was fine, her family had just been worried about her. But now that everyone seemed to have calmed down again, it was strange. Mrs. Kingsleigh had invited them to come for tea, so that he could be properly introduced to the family. But now - other than the occasional question about their lives - everyone was strangely silent.

“Mammie!” Emalee Cadence Hightopp shouted out, running into the dining room where her mother and father sat at the table with her mother’s sister and brother-in-law - her Aunt Margaret and Uncle Lowell - and her Grandmother. “Fa!”

Tarrant Hightopp smiled at his daughter, glad to have been distracted from the boringly quiet tea table. Why, he thought to himself in bemusement, there hadn't even been an exchanging of riddles at the beginning of teatime. Usually, it would have taken something much larger to pull him away from the tea table, but this would be enough of a distraction for now.

“Whatever's the hatter, my little top hat?” the Mad Hatter of Underland said, pulling his daughter up onto his lap.

“I fear that the dogs are bey-urious with me, Fa.” the little girl said, her eyes turning blue with sadness. “They won't say a word to me!"

Alice Hightopp nee Kingsleigh smiled kindly at her daughter, reaching out to tuck an unruly red curl behind her ear. “That's rather slurvish of them.” she commented, ignoring the shocked gasp that came from her sister. Although Margaret didn't know Outlandish, she did know a curse word whenever she heard one.

Emalee frowned. “The cats I've met so far haven't smiled, either! An' the flowers have nothing interesting to say, the frumious gruffians.” she complained, folding her small arms over her chest.

“Ah, 'tis that th' case?” the Hatter asked slipping into the Outlandish brogue that Alice so loved to hear. When Emalee nodded in reply, he grinned triumphantly. “Well, ye must remember, m'dearlin, tha' this is'nae home, ye sae. Therefore, the cats cannae smile, an’ teh flowers cannae bite yeh wit’ thayre words, unless they beh dandelions’r maebbe tayger lilahes, ‘'n’ o course, teh wee pups cannae talk betwix thems like we ahre used tah.” he continued rambling, his accent growing thicker and thicker, until…

“Tarrant!” Alice said worriedly as she laid a hand on his arm, pulling her husband back into the present.  
Tarrant stopped for a moment before he returned to the courteous lisp that he used for Court matters as he wheezed, “Thank you, I'm fine.”

Alice made sure that he really was fine before returning her attention back to their daughter. “Well, my sweet girl,” Alice said, “Why don't you go back and play? I'm sure that even though the animals won't talk, they'll be just as fun to play with as the pups are back home.”

Margaret smiled, trying to take back control of the conversation. "Yes, dear," she said, gaining her niece's attention. "You can go and play with your cousin Winifred in the nursery. I'm sure that she would love to have someone to join her in playing house."

But Emalee crossed her arms over her chest, scrunching up her nose as she furrowed her brow. "I don't want to play house." she said stubbornly. "I want to play Champions."

When Margaret didn't respond, Alice took over. "You can play Champions outside in the garden, geminous girl. Maybe you can teach Winifred how to, as well."

Emalee smiled at her mother. “Yes Mammie.” she said, and then her smile grew bigger. “Maybe I can find Absolem somewhere!” she said excitedly. “Then he'll teach me how to slay a Jabberwocky, too!”

Both Margaret and Lowell looked shocked at that, and Alice had to work to keep from rolling her eyes. "You know the rules, Emalee." That seemed to pacify Margaret for a moment, while Lowell continued to glower. Until Alice continued, "You have to be big enough to swing your Fa's broadsword before you're slaying anything."

“Aye, my wee lass, yer mam’s right.” Tarrant said as their daughter slipped down off of his lap. “But fer nauw, I shall help ye t' start yehr rebellion, t' g'way wit tha' shrifty slithy bluddy behg hid.” He climbed to his feet as well, taking his daughter's hand in his own.

The father and daughter were laughing softly to themselves as they started to leave the room, but were stopped by the sound of Alice's voice. “Tarrant?” she called, and her husband turned to look at her. They seemed to have a nonverbal conversation for several minutes before Alice sighed.

“Alright.” she said. “Just be back before brillig.”

Tarrant bounded over to his wife's side and kissed her cheek. “Of course, my Alice.” he said, before racing back over to his daughter's side and taking her by the hand.

“Downal wyth bluddy behg hid.” Tarrant said, and both his wife and daughter smiled at him.

“Downal wyth bluddy behg hid.” They chorused, before the Mad Hatter and his daughter ran off, leaving Alice behind to cope with the unfortunate task of talking with her family.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Emalee and Tarrant left the room, the other adults at the table all looked at Alice Hightopp nee Kingsleigh.

She continued to eat a few more bites of food - although these scones were no where near as fine as the ones that Thackery would make - before looking at her family. To be honest, she knew precisely what they were going to say, and wasn't looking forward to it at all. She summoned as much of her muchness as she could, then spoke. 

“What is it?” she asked innocently, putting down her scone.

“Really, Alice.” her sister started. “This is utterly ridiculous!” Mrs. Margaret Manchester looked every inch a lady in her pale green gown, strings of pearls around her neck and curls carefully and deliberately set into place. She was the utter opposite of her younger sister at that moment. Alice Hightopp - despite being a Lady of the White Court - wore her blonde hair loose, with a dress in Alice blue that the Royal seamstress had made for her. Of course, as she was still Champion to the White Queen, neither corset nor stockings were required for her to wear. It had not taken her long to convince Mirana that neither one were necessary, and in fact completely impractical when she was expected to be in combat. “Completely and utterly ridiculous!” She continued, drawing Alice out of her musings on suitable undergarments.

“I beg your pardon?” Alice asked. Unfortunately, Lowell picked up where Margaret had left off.

“Marrying a milliner.” he said, saying the Hatter’s trade as if it were a dirty word. “And a bloody Gaelic, no less!”

“You disappeared for eight years, gone without a trace,” - and here Alice gave a silent thank-you to Time for keeping Himself at the same speed as his brother for once - “and then show up once more with some madman, claiming that he is your husband, and a child that you claim is your daughter!”

That was when Alice decided that she had had enough. “Oh, brangergain i’tall.” She swore. “For your information, Lowell” she sneered, getting up out of her seat. “That man has a name, and it is Tarrant. He is my husband, and Emalee is my daughter! Furthermore, Lowell, I suggest you keep your nose out of my business, you slurvish pig.”

“Alice!” Helen Kingsleigh said, completely appalled at her youngest daughter’s behavior. “You apologize to Lowell, now!” she said - even though she was secretly rather proud of her. She had never been all that fond of Lowell, even though she had originally thought that he would be a suitable match for Margaret. However, since the two had married, Lowell Manchester had shown a side of himself that Helen was not fond of.

Alice stared at them for a minute, before nodding her head. “Very well.” she said. “Lowell, I apologize.” she said, and allowed just enough time for him to smirk at her before adding, “that you are a slurvish pig.” With that, she rose from her seat and turned to face the Kingsleigh matriarch. “If you'll excuse me, I need to see to my daughter.” she said stiffly, before turning and leaving the room.

“Mother!” Margaret said, shooting an irritated look towards her sister. “You cannot honestly believe what she is telling us, can you?”

But Mrs. Helen Kingsleigh merely smiled and watched as her youngest child walked off. She turned her attention back to the people at the table only after Alice had disappeared from view. “Actually, I believe that I can.” And with that she folded her napkin, placing it back on the table as she stood, moving to go after her daughter.

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She found Alice in the garden, standing under a tree with a sad smile on her face as she touched the bark. She watched as the last few leaves fell to join the pile that surrounded the base of the tree, and saw Alice’s mouth moving, as though she was speaking to the tree itself.

“What is it, Alice?” Helen asks her youngest child, watching how she studied the trees. 

Alice turned to look at her mother, smiling through the sadness in her eyes. “I had forgotten that trees lose their leaves.” She admitted. “Back home, the queen keeps ever-blossoming cherry trees - terrible gossips, I don't know why she keeps them - and so Emalee was quite shocked upon seeing these ones. Tarrant wasn't as shocked, of course, but then Emalee has never been outside of -” she cut herself off then, stopping herself right before saying where she has been for the last eight years. That was the one question that she refused to answer - that, and what she has done with her life. Margaret had asked if Alice was enjoying life as a lady of the court - once she had let it slip that they were meeting with the queen for tea when they got home - but all three Hightopps had snorted with laughter, then refused to tell anyone what they had found so amusing.

“Why can't you tell us where you live, Alice?” Helen asked her daughter, her voice tinged with worry. “Why won't you tell us what you do now, what requires your hands to be so callused. Why can’t you tell us what happened at the Ascot’s garden party? Why don't you just stay here, in London?”

Alice merely smiled. “I love you mother, but we simply can't stay here. We would be miserable here, and we are needed back home.”

“But how did you even get here in the first place?” She asked, studying her daughter's face for any clue of what had happened to her. “You just... appeared.” And that was the truth. It had been a maid that discovered the three Hightopps, just standing in Alice’s old bedroom. Her screams had brought the attention of the butler, who had in turn brought the small family to Mrs. Kingsleigh.

“I'm thinking of things that begin with the letter ‘M'.” Alice said playfully, and her mother sighed. 

“Really, Alice?” 

But of course, Alice didn't listen. “Marriage.” She began, a small smile forming on her face. “Muchness. Magnificence.”

“Marigolds.” Helen said, only semi-reluctantly. She smoothed her skirts with her hands, checking to make sure that her hair was still sitting perfectly out of habit.

“Magic.” Alice countered, a twinkle in her eyes as she watched her mother's reaction. “Mirrors.”

“Madness.” Helen scoffed, and Alice shrugged.

“Maybe.”

There was a minute or two of silence before anything more was said.

“I am glad that you didn't marry Hamish.” her mother said, startling Alice.

“I'm sorry?” Alice replied, although her mother knew that she had heard.

“As it turns out,” Helen sighed, “you were right. Hamish Ascot is not the right man for you.”

“Mother?” Alice asked, not sure if her mother was saying what she thought she was. 

Helen Kingsleigh smiled at her youngest child, glad that at least one of her daughters had found love and happiness in their marriage. “Your Tarrant is good for you, Alice. Your father would have loved him. He would have adored Emalee, as well.”

“Mammie!”

The girl in question came running up to the two women, her red hair and dark skirts flying. She - like her mother - was dressed in what Helen had been assured was the height of fashion back in their home. Her dress was a deep purple frock with pale purple trimming, a sprinkling of tan dots over it, and a tan ribbon wrapped around her waist. “Mammie!” she called out, hands cupped in front of her. Tears were pouring out of her brown-tinged-blue eyes, streaming down her pale cheeks, and her cousin Winifred came storming along behind her, looking absolutely furious. 

Winifred was the complete opposite of her cousin. While both were already stunning at eight years old, Winnie was an English Rose, as fair as they came. She had inherited her looks from her mother, and her temperament from her father. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, falling in fashionable ringlets down to her shoulders. She wore a pale purple pinafore dress with a plain white apron and a purple collar, white stockings and black shoes. 

Meanwhile, her cousin Emalee was almost eerily pale, with large eyes that one could never narrow down the color of - they almost seemed to change to fit her mood. Her hair was a bright red, tumbling in wild unkempt curls down her back and over her shoulders.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Alice asked, bending over to catch her daughter. “Are you hurt? Where’s your Fa?”

“He's in… in the field.” She said, still crying. The younger girl, only six years old according to her parents, was very emotional and headstrong - a blend of both her parents’ personalities.

Winifred rolled her eyes, something that normally Helen would have scolded her for doing as it was a very unladylike thing to do. “It was just a cat, Emalee.”

“‘Twas naugh’ jus’ a cat, ye frumious boggletog.” Emalee shot back in reply, and at that moment in time, Helen could have sworn that her eyes glowed red to match her hair.

“Emalee Cadence, watch your language!” Alice scolded. She looked behind the girls, her relief evident on her face. “Tarrant, what's going on?” 

“The girls seem… seem to have found a litter of kittens, but the Mammie cat had died.” He informed them, his sorrow written clearly on his face. His eyes seemed… duller than they had been, Helen noted. Less of the bright green she had seen, and closer to grey. “She looked very much like a certain Cat of our acquaintance.”

Alice's face fell, and she held onto her daughter just a bit tighter. “Can we bring the kittens home with us?” She asked her husband. “Maybe Chess would want to look after them…”

“Ah cannae sae ‘im doin’ sow.” Tarrant replied, his voice deepening to what she had been assured was his natural Scottish accent. “But Ah’m sure tha’ Mirana will nae sae no t’ one ohr twine.”

“What about Mallymkun, Fa?” Emalee asked, looking worried. “We can't let her get eaten!”

Tarrant’s face melted into a soft grin. “Nae t’ worry, m’dearlin. Auwr Mally can fight off anythin’ tha’ comes aft’er.”

“How many are there?” Alice asked, finally letting go of her daughter.

Winifred jumped into the conversation, still glaring daggers at her cousin. “There are four. And look!” She said, pulling at the skirt of her dress. “Emalee dropped a kitten and it shredded my skirts!” 

Emalee rolled her eyes, and Helen watched apprehensively as they faded from red to orange, and then to yellow. “Naugh’ one cares abou’ yer skirts, ye -” 

“Emalee Hightopp, if you finish that sentence you won't be allowed to visit the Tweedles for a week!” Alice threatened, and Helen Kingsleigh looked at her daughter in shock. Not once in all her years had she expected this - to see her daughter grown up and married, with children of her own.

“Is that the only issue?” Tarrant asked, kneeling in front of his niece. He was more focused on the ripped dress than his daughter's foul language. “Not to worry, Winnie dear - your dress doesn't seem to have been finished anyway.” He took the edges of her skirt in his hands, pulling an already-threaded needle out of his coat pocket. Before any of the ladies could tell him otherwise, he had already begun stitching her skirt, his hands moving faster than anything the Abovelanders had seen before. It was merely moments before he was finished, and he held out the skirt for them to inspect.

“There, that's much better!” The Hatter said happily, even as Helen and Winnie stared at her skirts in horror. The pale purple fabric had been embroidered with various designs in shades of blue and green.

Alice giggled - no doubt imagining what Margaret would say - even as she examined his embroidery with a practiced eye. “This is excellent, Tarrant.” She praised, and he smiled, looking completely besotted.

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It was hours before the Hightopp clan was free to leave.

“Don't worry, Mother.” Alice reassured. “We'll come back soon, I promise.”

Helen Kingsleigh smiled, keeping her eyes trained on her daughter's. “You had better.” She told her. “But why are we in your old room, Alice?”

She just smiled at her, that old spark of mischief in her eyes twinkling. “You'll see. Fairfarren, mother.”

And with that, the small family stepped one by one through the looking glass.


End file.
